


Got A Hold On Me

by LaLainaJ



Series: Make Some Noise [31]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Cunnilingus, F/M, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:43:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5136857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus' personal Halloween tradition - getting as drunk as hybridly possible - is derailed when he spots a woman dressed as Little Red Riding Hood. He's intrigued, and when he finds out who's underneath the cloak, finding the bottom of a bottle becomes the last thing he cares about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got A Hold On Me

**Got A Hold On Me**

**(Prompt from an Anon:** **little red riding hood/ big bad wolf halloween au. Title from Howlin' For You by The Black Keys. Smut.)**

Getting 'hammered,' to borrow Elijah's term, on Halloween, has become something of a tradition for Klaus, in the last few decades. Sometimes he throws a party, sometimes he finds one.

Last year he'd trounced a group of football players at beer pong, having wandered onto a university campus. He'd eaten the quarterback, and gone home with the poor fellow's leggy blonde girlfriend.

The year before that he'd celebrated at a pub in Stockholm, with Akvavit and woman who'd been dressed like Marilyn Monroe.

Three years ago he'd made a command appearance at a black tie masquerade Rebekah had thrown in New York City, her current stomping grounds. Klaus had drunk ten thousand dollars' worth of champagne, and had woken up on a stranger's balcony, dressed in an entirely different costume then he'd started the evening in.

Rebekah had been most displeased.

The quality of the liquor varies with the company, but Klaus isn't overly fussy, so long as it gets the job done, and he's pleasantly intoxicated by the end of the night.

On this particular All Hallow's Eve he's back in New Orleans, for the first time in years. He'd been in the neighborhood, or at least within a few states, so he thought he might as well pop in and check up on Marcel, see how his old friend was faring.

And, since he'd personally taught Marcel how to throw a party properly, Klaus had assumed he'd be in for a good one.

It's early still, and Klaus is only halfway through a bottle of bourbon, and so far the crowd is mostly tourists, and the vampires Marcel allows to inhabit the city.

None that Klaus finds particularly interesting. He'd terrorized Joshua, for old time's sake, but the boy had quickly been sent off by Marcel. Honestly, Josh had more than half a century, under his belt. Wasn't that a bit too many years to justify being coddled?

The club Marcel prefers to throw events at had a line wrapping around the block, when Klaus had arrived, and the place is packed. Klaus assumes that city officials have been bribed and/or compelled to ignore the fire codes.

It's what Klaus would have done.

He'd forgone a costume, and a few people toss him puzzled looks, but Klaus is unconcerned. He motions for another drink, and leans back against the bar, scanning the crowd, to see if anyone, or anything, peaks his interest.

Overall, a disappointing start.

Klaus is considering retreating to the second level, with a bottle for company, just until things pick up, when he catches a brilliant flash of red, across the room.

It's a satin hood, pulled up over a woman's head, obscuring her face. A few golden blonde curls peek out, contrasting against the color of the fabric. She's walking across the dancefloor, making a beeline for Marcel, weaving in and out of the humans with a grace that leaves Klaus certain that she's a vampire.

He'll have to make her acquaintance, he decides. Because a blonde, all dressed up like Little Red Riding Hood, seems like just the thing to liven up Klaus' night.

* * *

He finishes his drink, keeping an eye on the lady in red, watches as Marcel grins and laughs as they converse.

Not a bore then, which was a good sign.

She never turns, never gives him even a glimpse of her features. She's tall, of a height with Marcel, but that's about all he can see. Klaus isn't able to make out much of her form, between the billowy cloak that serves as her costume, and the rapidly expanding crowd getting in his way.

No matter. He's bedded all sorts of women, in his thousand years. It's exceedingly unlikely that she'll be the least attractive of the bunch.

And, if the odds aren't in his favor, there are plenty of other women here.

He makes his way over, and Marcel looks up when he notices Klaus' proximity, smirking slightly in a way that makes Klaus pause. It was an anticipatory look, almost gleeful, and Klaus hadn't the faintest idea of its origin.

"Marcellus!" Klaus calls, when he's close enough to be easily heard over the thumping bass, noting the way the cloaked woman stiffens. Now wasn't that interesting? Perhaps he knows her? The only blonde mutual acquaintance of his and Marcel's that Klaus can think of is Camille, who's retired to Florida and is a doting grandmother, these days.

The woman's costume reveals an almost indecent amount of toned leg, and the matching glossy heels are high and spindly. The exact opposite of matronly.

"Fantastic party," Klaus tells Marcel, his eyes on the mystery woman, who's yet to acknowledge him. "Won't you introduce me to your lovely friend?"

Marcel's answer is filled with amusement, "I'm afraid introductions won't be necessary."

Klaus is just about to ask him what he means, when he senses the woman moving. She turns towards him, the hood slipping back, revealing her face. A face Klaus knows, though he's not set eyes on it, except when he pages through old sketchbooks, for close to sixty years.

A small smile curves lips painted ruby red, and Caroline Forbes says, "Hello, Klaus."

It's the nearest Klaus' jaw has ever come to dropping in shock.

Marcel must notice, because he turns a laugh into a cough (not very convincingly), before he steps away, murmuring, "I'll leave you two to catch up. Don't be a stranger, Caroline."

That snaps Klaus out of the near daze he'd been in, "How do you know Marcel, Caroline?" he demands, casting a suspicious look at the man's retreating back.

Caroline shrugs, "At this point? I guess you could say we're old friends."

Klaus feels a quick flash of jealousy, hot and stomach twisting, when he considers the implications of that statement. He's debating the best way to pry, to ascertain exactly how  _friendly_  they'd been, when Caroline offers the information freely, "Completely non-sexual old friends, FYI. I thought it would be super weird to sleep with him, once he told me how you two know each other, even if he is smoking hot."

Klaus relaxes marginally, "And how long have you two been friends, love?"

"God, like forty years now? I lived here for a bit.

"In New Orleans?" Klaus asks skeptically. Because that seems like the sort of thing he should have known. And something he'll definitely be discussing with Marcel.

"Mmm hmm," Caroline confirms. "I did the human thing, in Dallas. Then, when people started to make comments about how old I looked, I took off. Did some travelling. When I wanted to settle down again I decided to try a more vampire friendly city, and this one had come highly recommended," she shoots him a significant look. "But alas, the tour guide I was looking for was long gone. Marcel kindly stepped in. Had all sorts of interesting stories."

"I've discovered I'm not much for standing still," Klaus tells her, by way of explanation. He shifts closer, until her back's pressed against the wall, and he's scant inches away. Caroline doesn't seem to mind, her posture relaxed. He tests her, reaching out to play with a curl.

She doesn't shy away, instead shifts her legs, the inside of her knee grazing the outside of his.

Caroline expression turns thoughtful, as she studies him, "I think that's something we have in common, these days. I only lasted three years here, and then I was off again. Haven't stayed anywhere longer than that since. But I've always loved Marcel's Halloween parties. I usually try to get back for them."

Klaus grins, "A high compliment from you. I recall your standards for such events were exacting."

She rolls her eyes, though a tiny smile forms at the corner of her mouth, as she shoves him gently, "I've mellowed in my old age, thank you."

"If you say so, sweetheart," Klaus tells her, ever so slightly patronizing.

Her eyes narrow, and her gaze rakes him up and down, "It's true! If I hadn't I'd be lecturing you about how inappropriately you're dressed." She reaches out, tugs on his shirt, "Seriously, Klaus, did you buy like a hundred of these in 2013? I swear I recognize this Henley."

She doesn't drop her hand, snaking it around his side. She leans slightly into him, as if she needs to be closer to hear him better, even though they both know that her vampiric senses have no trouble cutting through all the background noise.

Klaus isn't about to question her, however. He's intrigued, by her behavior, and the warmth of her palm on his body is the opposite of unpleasant.

"I'm afraid not. Though I'll admit I'm not one to follow trends. There have been some dreadful ones, I'm sure you've noticed. As for the costume, there's nothing I could pretend to be that would be more frightening than what I am, so why bother?"

Caroline scoffs, "I see your ego's as healthy as ever. And how many people really know you're the big bad hybrid? They probably think you're just super lazy or uncreative."

"Enough," Klaus says, glancing back over the crowd. When he turns back to Caroline he lets his eyes drop down, slowly perusing her body, before looking back at her face, at the way her tongue darts out the wet her lower lip. "And the people who matter know that I'm neither of those things. Tell me love," Klaus says, allowing himself to touch her again, to toy with the red ribbon that holds her cloak closed. "Is your costume a coincidence? It is a message? Did Marcel tell you I'd be here?"

"Do you believe in coincidence?" Caroline asks him curiously.

Klaus answer is instantaneous, "Not even a little bit."

"Smart."

"I like to think so."

Another eye roll, and a shake of her head, is all that Klaus gets in reply to his boasting. He's almost disappointed until Caroline begins to move.

She edges slightly to the side, peering behind him, and a mischievous light entering her eyes. She steps into Klaus, and when she speaks again, her voice is a low, suggestive, hum in his ear, "I think you should ask me to dance. Assuming, of course, that you know how to do that kind of dancing." She gestures to the floor, where people are pressed up against one another, moving feverishly to the music pumping through the club.

It's not his favorite pastime, by far. But Klaus isn't one to back away from a challenge, and he's not about to turn down a golden opportunity to have Caroline pressed against him.

* * *

Klaus isn't aware of how much time has passed while they've been dancing. He's aware of very little, besides the scent of her skin, and the slip of satin, heated by their bodies, between them. He's got his hands on her waist, and they itch to slide down, to touch the bare skin of her thighs.

He has a sneaking suspicion that she's wearing very little, under the costume, his skimming hands have come across no wires or seams, and he can make out her nipples, the hard points of them pressing temptingly against the fabric, when he looks down.

She's becoming impatient, he thinks. Her face is flushed, and her nails bite into the skin of his neck, the motions of her hips grow more provocative, and insistent, with each passing song. A particularly rough grind of her arse against his cock, which had been straining his zipper since the first time she'd sneaked her hand under his shirt, has Klaus muffling a moan in her shoulder.

She does it again, and Klaus retaliates, letting his lips graze her skin with purpose, rasping his tongue over the curve where her shoulder meets her throat.

Caroline shivers against him, and her head tips back against him. She turns her head slightly, her nose grazing his neck. "I'm not sure who's teasing who anymore. Take me home, Klaus."

He stills, whirls her to face him, "A bed, this time? I see the appeal, Caroline. And I'm very tempted. Is this just another interlude? You sating your curiosities, only to flit away, when we're done? What do you want me to promise this time?"

Instead of answering, Caroline takes his hand. He allows her to lead him out of the club, and down the street a ways, before she lets go. Her hands twist together, and her eyes flit about nervously. "I'm not going to make you promise to stay away, Klaus. I came looking for you, remember? I think that means you're released, don't you?"

"I'm never entirely sure what you mean, love," Klaus confesses quietly.

Caroline takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, and looking him in the eye. "Fine. You want direct? What are you doing tomorrow, Klaus? Because I was thinking about going to Paris. I was too late for that New Orleans tour you offered, but I seem to remember that's not the only place you wanted to take me. So how about it?"

Klaus reaches for her, without consciously deciding to, the tiny tremor in her voice convincing him she means it. He's got his hands in her hair, and his lips are millimeters from hers, so close that he can feel the quick gusts of air her rapid breaths are letting out. "Be very sure, before offering me this chance, Caroline," he warns. "Because I intend to make the most of it, love. The places I can show you. The things I can teach you. I'll make sure you'll never want to go back."

"I'm sure," Caroline says, her blue eyes wide and serious. "I…"

Klaus takes her mouth hungrily, thrusting his tongue past her lips and rubbing it against hers. Caroline moans, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders.

He'll be sure to ask her to finish that sentence. Later.

* * *

They stumble into his house, barely noticing when they crash into an end table, and a lamp smashes to the floor. They'd managed to speed here, and Klaus is thankful that the populace of New Orleans remained willfully oblivious to the supernatural, because they'd not been at all discrete.

It had been a struggle, not to let his hands wander under her cloak, to see if his guesses had been correct. Caroline's not been quite so circumspect. She's torn his shirt off, two blocks ago, and his belt had been undone before they'd set foot on the porch.

She whips it out of the loops, tossing it aside, her hands going for the button of his jeans.

But Klaus steps back, out of her reach. Confusion, and irritation flit across her face. "Klaus. Pants off. Now."

Her eagerness is more than gratifying, sending a jolt to his cock, and he wonders if it would really be so bad, to strip away the rest of his clothes, wrap her legs around his waist, and take her against a wall. It's not like they won't have time for other things.

They have all the time in the world.

But he'd been perfectly serious, earlier. He wants to show her the world. Food, art, music. All of the genuine beauty he'd tried to tempt her with back in Mystic Falls. He wants to teach her what it really means, to be immortal.

And he wants to show her the heights he's capable of bringing her body to. The time they'd spent together in the forest had been delicious. But they'd been rushed, frantic, the location less than ideal.

He'd not trade those hours for anything, but he'd be lying if he said he'd not thought back, considered how he could improve upon them.

And now he has his chance.

"Take that off, Caroline," Klaus instructs lowly, eyes on the red satin that covers her.

A tiny smirk crosses her lips, but she doesn't make a move to undress, spinning on a heel, and mounting the staircase. She moves slowly, glancing over her shoulder when she's halfway up, tipping her head as if to ask him what he's waiting for.

"Where are you going, love?" he calls after her.

"You're bedroom," she replies. "A little direction, might be helpful though. This place is ridiculous."

Klaus easily passes her on the stairs, and darts down the hallway, leaning against the wall outside of his room.

"Showoff," Caroline mutters, when she passes him.

She doesn't bother looking around, and when she turns to face him, her fingers are slowly pulling the ribbon at her throat apart. It had been tightly laced, down the middle of her chest, and she pulls it away, out of the holes, letting it flutter to the ground. Her neckline gapes open, the curves of her breasts visible. She pushes it down, first one shoulder than the other, letting the satin fall to the floor.

Klaus swallows harshly, taking in all the bare skin she's shamelessly revealed.

It's always good to be right.

Caroline steps out of her costume, and walks towards Klaus. This time he doesn't protest, when she undoes his zipper, when she hooks her thumbs into his boxer briefs, and drags them down his hips.

But when they're equally naked, and she moves to touch him, Klaus scoops her up, delighting in the surprised squeal she lets out, setting her down in the middle of the bed, insinuating his body into the cradle of her thighs.

She glares up at him playfully, her hair spread out on his pillows, "Can't a girl make a move, around here?"

Klaus leans down, brushes his mouth against hers, "Later. If you'd like. Though I plan for you to be far too exhausted.

Caroline makes a protesting noise, but Klaus swallows it, reacquainting himself with the taste of her. Her hips press up, and he can feel the heat of her, against his stomach. He pulls his mouth from hers, littering kisses down her body, drawing on his memories, for the places that make her shiver and moan.

He sucks a nipple into his mouth, bringing a hand up to roll the other one, increasing the pressure as her breaths turn ragged.

She's restless under him, thighs clenched around his hips, but Klaus keeps moving down. He tastes the skin over her ribs, feels the muscles of her stomach clench when he scrapes his teeth over them. He kisses her navel, circles it playfully with his tongue.

He drags his mouth lower, and Caroline's thighs widen, her eyes watching him intently, fingers twisted in the sheets.

She lets out a groan when he bypasses where she wants him. Klaus can smell her arousal, can see how wet she is. It's a test of his resolve, because he wants to rear up, to work his cock into her, feel her slick and hot, clamped around him. But he needs to have her writhing and mindless before he's inside of her.

He wants her eyes clouded and her voice hoarse, his name the only word she's capable of uttering.

He works his way down the length of her legs, applies his teeth to the soft skin of her inner thigh. Watches the faint red mark fade back to pretty porcelain.

"Klaus," Caroline moans, her back arching, "Come on."

"Did you want something, love?" Klaus asks, deceptively casual, as he works her shoes off. "My mouth, perhaps? My tongue inside you, or playing with your clit? Or maybe my teeth, in your thigh, as you ride my fingers."

Her knees draw up, her toes digging into the bed. She hisses out a, "Yes," drawn out and pleading.

"That's not an answer," Klaus teases, letting a finger ghost over her slit.

"Just do something, Klaus. Please."

"If you insist," he murmurs. He slides his hands under her knees, pressing her thighs upwards, before he dips his head, and pushes his tongue inside of her. She can't move against him, like this, and her head thrashes against the pillows, a hand reaching down and sliding through his hair. She tugs, urging him higher, and Klaus takes the hint, licking a broad stripe upwards, before tracing tight circles around her clit.

It doesn't take long before her legs begin to tremble, under his grip, and she's moaning nearly constantly, her hand tugging at his hair riding the edge of pain.

It crosses the line, sending a sharp jolt down his spine, her moan becoming a scream, when Klaus turns his head, and digs his fangs into her thigh.

He makes a noise of his own, his eyes falling shut, as her blood spills across his tongue. He allows himself a few blissful mouthfuls, his fingers rubbing her clit, before he rears up, and slides inside of her, just as she comes apart.

It's harder than he'd like it to be, to hold on, especially when her legs wrap around him, dragging him deeper into her clenching body. Her hands are clawing at his back, as she shudders through it, her eyes wild on his, face tight with pleasure.

He waits for her to relax under him, before he moves his hips, sliding out of her slowly, before rocking back in. She lets out a whimper, before inhaling sharply, "Klaus, I don't know if I…"

"Shh. Yes you can," he tells her, maintaining his gentle pace until she starts to meet his thrusts. He speeds up then, tilting his head in invitation. Caroline kisses his throat, runs her tongue along the artery, "Bite, love," he encourages her hoarsely, his thrusts picking up as he feels his own release coil, "I want you to come when you drink from me."

She lets out a moan, and he feels her fangs prick his skin for a moment, and then the faint stab of her biting down. She drinks deep, and he feels her pulsing around him, the ecstatic noise that falls from her telling him she's fallen over the edge again.

Klaus lets himself go, sensation arcing through his body, shoving deep and riding it out, quaking against Caroline's softness.

He feels her fangs slip out, closes his eyes when she licks the wound until it's closed, rests his head next to hers, as his heart slows. Caroline runs her hands down his back. She clears her throat, "You know, I was skeptical about the whole exhaust me thing, but I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't have been."

Klaus smiles against her skin, sitting up and flipping her over, her body pliant and willing. He bends to press a kiss to her spine, holding her gaze as she peers over her shoulder at him in interest.

"That almost sounded like a challenge, sweetheart," Klaus mutters, absently, working his way down vertebrae by vertebrae, "And I do enjoy those."


End file.
